


Fox Trouble

by crumplelush



Series: Andreil Week 2019 [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Andreil Week 2019, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 08:11:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19719685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crumplelush/pseuds/crumplelush
Summary: Andrew should know better than to investigate strange noises coming from dark alleyways





	Fox Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1: alternate meeting | fantasy au | **magic au**

The Masarati has been in the shop for three days now and Andrew is getting bored of walking everywhere. Sure, he could have rented a car but they’d told him it was only going to be a day and he hadn’t seen the point. And it’s supposed to be released tomorrow evening so it seems silly now.

He shrugs to himself as he wraps his scarf tighter around his neck. Typical that he got rear-ended in the dead of winter. He quickens his walk down the road to his apartment, but then stops suddenly as he hears an all too familiar noise. That of someone in pain trying to hide it. It’s coming from the alleyway to his right.

Andrew mentally sighs to himself. He could ignore it, it’s not his business. But he’s got nowhere special to be, and he’d hate to have to read about something gruesome in the newspaper the next morning and knowing he could have done something. He conveniently ignores the fact that he doesn’t read the news as he steps into the alleyway.

“If this is a ploy to mug me then it’s going to go very badly for you” he calls to the empty alley as he grips the knife in his pocket tightly – his armbands not being accessible through the thick layers of his winter coat. There’s a silence in the air as no one replies.

“Look” he sighs, “I heard you. You’re clearly in pain and I might be able to help. But you need to tell me where you are. I don’t care enough to go dumpster diving.” Still no response.

Andrew huffs. He debates turning around and walking off, but he can almost imagine Bea’s neutral look of faint disapproval and decides to give it one last shot. He pokes around a bit, not bothering to talk since he’s clearly not going to get a reply. He thinks he hears a noise from between two bins and gives them a curious look. It’s a narrow gap. Very narrow. Far too small for a person, unless someone had abandoned a baby. Andrew steadfastly ignores his own issues rearing their heads at that though and leans down to peer between the gap.

It’s not a baby. Not a person at all in fact. It’s a small red fox. It doesn’t appear to be breathing, but Andrew can see the blood still pouring out of what looks like a bullet hole on it’s shoulder so it’s clearly still alive. Andrew doesn’t know what kind of monster would shoot a fox but he dismisses the thought as he reaches into the gap to try and get the fox out.

The fox doesn’t even struggle, which is how Andrew knows it’s seriously injured. He manages to pick it up and he tucks it into his chest and pulls his coat around it. From this angle he can see that in addition to the bullet hole the fox is also covered in slashes from a knife and a bad burn on his back. The fox is also breathing shallowly and Andrew knows from experience it’s not long for this world.

He leaves the alleyway and turns left, walking in the opposite direction to his apartment. He checks the time, and yes, Aaron will still be at work. Hopefully he won’t be busy this close to closing.

Nicky is just turning the sign from open to closed when Andrew arrives and breezes past his cousin without bothering to say hello. Nicky is used to Andrew by now, and just greets him as he continues to close up shop. Andrew waltzes into the backroom where Aaron is doing some paperwork. Perfect.

“Heal him” Andrew demands as he carefully deposits the small bundle of fur onto the examination table. Aaron just raises one eyebrow at the tiny animal bleeding onto his furniture. “It’s a fox” he says, and Andrew scoffs.

“Score one for your powers of deduction. Now heal him” he demands again.

“I’m a human healer. I don’t do pets.”

Andrew growls in impatience. “The animal healer is across the city and he won’t survive the trip. You’re not busy, now _heal him_.”

Aaron looks at Andrew, decides not to argue, and sighs as he pulls on his gloves. “What happened to him?”

Andrew quickly explains everything that he knows – which admittedly isn’t much. Aaron directs Andrew as his assistant and does everything in his considerable power to help the little fox. Unfortunately it doesn’t help. Half an hour after Andrew arrives it opens it’s eyes, looks directly at Andrew and takes it’s last shuddering breath.

There’s silence in the room. Aaron breaks it by kicking the table’s leg in frustration. He may have been reluctant to treat the fox in the first place, but that doesn’t make losing a patient is any easier.

Andrew is distraught. He’s not entirely sure why, but he didn’t want this fox to die. He wanted to save it. He wanted to help.

“Andrew.” His brother is calling him. “Andrew, do you want me to take care of it?” Aaron clearly understands that this was important to Andrew – he wouldn’t have agreed to help in the first place if he hadn’t – and it makes Andrew angry that he’s so transparent. He tries to tamp that reaction down, he’s been working on opening up to his family more, and so this is a good thing. It’s just that Andrew is feeling particularly vulnerable right now, and doesn’t want to be seen like this.

“No” he says hoarsely. He swallows and tries again. “No. I’ll take care of it.”

Nicky appears from out of nowhere to hand Andrew a blanket. Honestly, Andrew hadn’t even notice him in the room. Any other day he’d be shaken by that, but today he just doesn’t care. He carefully wraps the tiny fox up and leaves Aaron’s clinic, heading home to his 18th floor apartment.

He gets home on autopilot, too busy thinking about the tiny fox that Andrew had somehow gotten attached to in the few moments it had been alive. By the time he reaches his apartment he has made what is quite possibly the stupidest decision of his whole life. And there’s been some pretty stiff competition.

His supplies are scattered around the flat in different places. Most witches keep their supplies together, in one bag or cupboard. Or clinic, in Aaron’s case. But then again, most witches’ disciplines aren’t incredibly illegal.

Necromancy had been outlawed long before Andrew’s birth. While it was not technically illegal to be a necromancer – it not being possible to choose one’s discipline – it was still highly suspect and all necromancers had to be registered and check in’s were common to make sure they weren’t practising. Anyone found to be doing necromancy was immediately given life in prison. No parole. No appeal. No second chance.

Andrew had been lucky in a way, having been raised in the foster system. He’d slipped through the cracks and managed to make it to 15 without a classification. When he’d been sent to live with Tilda and his brother someone had finally noticed the blank space on his paperwork, and assumed it meant he had no magical powers – a boring normal human. They’d tagged him as such, and Andrew had been very careful to not let on that he was any different to anybody.

So Andrew kept his herbs in the kitchen. His chalk in the study with his stationery. Candles in the cupboard with his spare batteries and torch. All very normal things for a normal person to have. No one could suspect someone of witchcraft just for using some rosemary on their roast potatoes after all.

He gently laid the foxes corpse down on the sofa and closed all the curtains before gathering his supplies. He rolled up the rug in the living room and made a circle, making sure that he didn’t press too hard that it’d be difficult to wipe clean afterwards. Luckily Aaron had sewn up the worst of the foxes gashes and removed the bullet before the fox had died, so Andrew didn’t to inexpertly attempt any of that. No point in bringing something back to life if it ends up dying again due to the same wounds.

He mixes up some poultices which he wraps around the burn on the foxes back, and the base of his tail. He also makes himself a disgusting tea which gets him into the right headspace, before placing the fox in the circle, and lighting the candles to begin the ritual.

He hopes he doesn’t mess this up. He’s only done it once before, and that was a long time ago. The thing about necromancy is that the power flows through the necromancer. It’s not the herbs and candles and things that do the work, it’s the witch themselves. The paraphernalia just helps to focus the power and help them concentrate. So he closes his eyes and lets the power flow.

The ritual doesn’t take as long as it did last time, but it still takes time. The sun was low in the sky when he started. It’s low again. The night has been and gone. Andrew is exhausted through more than a simple lack of sleep. He can feel awareness creep back into his body bit by bit, the hum of his heating, the smell of the candles, the feeling of a cold wet nose pressed against his ankle.

Andrew’s eyes fly open. The fox is alive. Alive and sat near Andrew sniffing at his bare feet. He looks up at Andrew and yawns. It worked.

Andrew isn’t exactly surprised, but he is relieved. He reaches out to the fox who leans into his hands and lets Andrew scratch his chin. The fox makes a small chirp of what sounds like contentment – which Andrew finds funny considering the fox looks fresh from a battlefield. But Andrew hasn’t got time to sit around and pet it, he has to get everything straightened out.

Andrew pulls out some raw chicken and eggs from the fridge and places them in a bowl, alongside some fresh water, on the floor for the fox before he carefully erases all traces of the ritual. He makes some coffee when he’s finished and calls into work sick. The fox has eaten a bit, but not much, and it’s shivering. So Andrew wraps it back up in the blanket he brought it home in and takes it into his bedroom. He climbs into his bed and the fox curls up pressed against him, nose buried in Andrews armpit.

The coffee does absolutely nothing and they both fall asleep in moments, curled around each other.

Andrew awakens to the sound of snoring, before his body registers the sensation of another body in his bed. Where the fox was the night before, there lays a man with auburn hair. It takes Andrew a second to notice the scars and wounds all over the young mans face and body and then he realises what happened.

Shapeshifter.

He’s still curled in Andrew’s arms and Andrew thinks about how long it’s been since he’s had an attractive man in bed before cursing himself. That is so not the point here.

The shapeshifter opens his eyes and smiles at Andrew before stretching in a particularly vulpine movement. “Morning” he says, and his voice is hoarse from disuse. “Any chance of breakfast, I’m starving.”

In lieu of answering Andrew gets out of bed and heads to the kitchen to get started on breakfast. He needs to think. He’s not in any legal trouble. Shapeshifters are about as popular as necromancers so it’s unlikely this fox is going to tattle on him. But there’s a whole bunch of other problems he’s facing. Starting with the fact that that he now has a very attractive naked man in his apartment who owes him a life debt.

Said attractive man wanders out of the bedroom in search of the coffee that has finished brewing. “So I think I heard your name is Andrew?” he says as he grabs a mug, unconcerned with his nakedness. Andrew grunts in affirmation.

“Hi Andrew, it’s nice to meet you” he smiles as he offers the hand not holding the mug for Andrew to shake. “You can call me Neil.”

**Author's Note:**

> I was in a rush to get this posted by midnight so it wasn't edited. Apologies for any mistakes.


End file.
